Beautiful Ghost
by Left Eye Better
Summary: A restless night allows Optimus to think about their losses, and Bumblebee tries make some losses not feel so deep. Transformers Prime fic


Title/Prompt: Beautiful Ghost

Writer: Left_eye_better

Rating: T

Characters: Bumblebee and Optimus Prime

Summary: A restless night allows Optimus to think about their losses, and Bumblebee to make some losses not feel so deep.

Warning: Mentions of past relations with a femme (Ariel), nothing much else

Word Count: 722

Continuity: Prime

**Disclaimer**: _Transformers_ © Hasbro/Takara/whoever.

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Bumblebee's winglets were expressive. The Prime had taken note of that over time. He supposed that after one was robbed of their voice that communication was such a necessary endeavor that their forms made sure it was still possible even in the most basic of ways. The yellow mech was young as far as their species went. Often times during the leader's recharge cycle he would feel the press of the smaller build against his side. Most of the time the nudges and prods of the sports car mech's movements would rouse him enough for the truckformer with unfocused optics to look down at the mech and in a reassuring way wrap an arm around Bumblebee's form keeping the possible terrors at bay.

This night had gone that way, but something had kept the Prime from simply falling back into his recharge. He tightened his hold on the other. His optics were barely powered up as he stared at the ceiling of the missile bunker. The arching metal skeleton supporting the hollowed rock mimicked the cathedral ceilings he'd seen when researching human architecture. The younger mech's door panels twitched shifting against his arm. The though of the human temples and the press of Bumblebee to his side brought back memories of the battle of Tyger Pax.

His optics went from the high ceiling to the top of the youngling's helm. His hand that had been on the thin waist moved carefully to the other's yellow helm stroking the sensory antennae before settling. The weight of his hand prompted the scout to adjust the position of his helm against the Prime's chest. Optimus' thumb tenderly swiped over the delicate feature again. A small sad smile turned up the corners of his mouth as he garnered another reaction from the recharging mech.

It was these moments of peace that stood out so starkly against his memory of the theatre of war that made the red and blue mech so grateful although their home was lost to them. They each had lost something of value, Bumblebee his voice, Ratchet his word given never to harm another being, Arcee her mentor Ironhide, Bulkhead his chance to been seen for something more than his size or strength, and perhaps the most devastating on the group and the individual, Cliffjumper and his life. His optics returned to the ceiling. He wondered what it was he lost. He had tried never to think about since with a heavy spark the leader knew the losses of other's outweighed his own.

Shuttering his optics he remember the gentle touches of Ariel's petite fingers cupping his face, dancing along the finials of his helm, gliding along the edges of the planes of his chest attempting to coax plates apart. His spark ached at the memories. As if a phantom made real visited him in the night small fingers trailed down the edge of the side vent of his helm. His optical shutters retracted back with a snap as his struts tensed bringing a certain rigidity to his form. A soft worried whistle drifted to his audials, and the hand near his helm became a little braver setting to hold the feature. Turning his helm the large mech looked down to the concerned blue optics of the younger mech.

Optimus shifted onto his side keeping his arm around the lighter built form. Lowering his helm he allowed for the crest of his to press against the smaller crest on the yellow helm. He shook his helm, causing both of theirs to move slightly and their optics powered down due to their closeness. "It was only a beautiful ghost, Bumblebee. No need for worry."

A quiet click of affirmation was issued from the scout before the smaller mech abruptly butted his helm into the space between the Prime's helm and shoulder, resting lightly against the other's neck. The hand that was on the blue metal of the larger mech's helm circled to the back and pulled the other's cranial unit down in an embrace. The message was there without words. The smaller mech would protect him from even the most tempting of specters.

"Thank you. Bee." The leader's optical shutters fell slowly closed as he turned his helm into the embrace, bringing his lips to graze against the sensory antenna of the scout's helm.


End file.
